Today was my cousin Joe's birthday, but I think of him more as an uncle considering he's closer to my dad's age than mine, that's besides the point of this, though. I haven't seen him or talked to him in 5 to 6 years due to his mental conditions. The past 10 years or so have consisted of a lot of ups and downs for him. I can't remember when exactly it was, but it was fairly recent, that he was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and Schizophrenia. When I had found this out, I was probably a pre teen and I didn't fully understand what this meant, but I do remember feeling a punch to my chest. Joe was my best friend when I was child and he was a vital part how growing up went for me. I always looked forward to holidays and family gatherings because I knew he'd be there and we'd get to spend time together and share laughs. When he was diagnosed, he was no longer around... He needed to get help and as sad as that made me, I knew it was for the best. Today was his birthday, today I called him meaning it'd be the first time we had talked in almost six years. I could tell he wasn't the same man he was when I was a child, but that didn't make a difference, I was just happy to hear his voice. He hadn't realized I had already graduated high school or that I was on my first year of college or that my sister had a baby. At certain points in the conversation, he had called me by my sister's name, but I knew I shouldn't take it personally, I knew he knew that it was me he was speaking to. He had said my voice was calm and that I sounded just like my father, I never thought that was something I would be happy to hear. When the circumstances aren't what they once were, you come to appreciate what you get. You appreciate the little things because the big things are no longer something you can experience. How can you possibly make up the time loss in six years through a sixteen minute phone call? You can't, but I sure as hell did try. I never realized how much I had changed in those years until he had picked up the phone. I realized I wasn't the same little girl and I didn't have the same dreams I had that time in my life. He was different, too. Not the golly man he once was. He hadn't lost the light that kept him going though and I think that's really important to consider. Mental illnesses are always going to be mental illnesses, but what is important is you don't let them win. You don't realize how significant a person's mental health is to their well being until you see the mental health of someone you love spiraling down at a fast speed, potentially taking them away at any moment. You're not your mental illnesses, you'll always be my best friend. "I love you, kid." "I love you, too." That's what was said before I clicked the end button on my iPhone.